


Broken Vow

by Diary



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bechdel Test Fail, Bottle Episode Fic, Conversations, Female-Male Friendship, Gen, Greg Lestrade-centric, Molly Hooper & Greg Lestrade Friendship, POV Greg Lestrade, POV Male Character, Post-Episode: s02e01 A Scandal in Belgravia, Pre-Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 17:50:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9453002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: Repost. Greg and Molly talk about his troubled marriage. Complete.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Sherlock.

DI Gregory Lestrade wakes up with a ringing headache, shivers going down his spine, a heavy weight on his chest, and rough wetness coating his face.

An almost deafening meow fills the air.

“Here, Toby,” a soft voice says.

The weight disappears off his chest, but the realisation he's hung-over enough he couldn't past any sort of sobriety test, he desperately needs to use the toilet, and he has no idea where he is or how he got to this unknown place settles firmly in his already recoiling stomach.

“DI Lestrade,” the soft voice says, “it's me, Molly. Molly Hooper. You passed out at Shelly's Bar last night, and I took you to my flat. I'm going to turn on the lights, alright?”

Grateful the stinging light gives him a legitimate excuse for the tears, he sits up.

His belt, shoes, mobile, and wallet have been removed, and a look at the nightstand reveals the last two. He pockets them and looks over to see she's dressed for work.

Giving him a tentative smile, she asks, “Bathroom?”

Nodding and hating himself and Sherlock Holmes, he slowly gets up. Some part of him is aware he should be thanking her right now, but he doesn’t think he could speak properly if his life depended on it.

She points the way, and in the bathroom, he finds a plastic cup with his name written on it and a toothbrush inside.

After everything's done, he still doesn't feel slightly close to human.

This, he realises, is the final proof he needs he needs to file for divorce.

Sighing, he digs out his phone and types out, _You were right._

Of course, the bastard was right. He was right about the cheating, and surprise, surprise, Sherlock Holmes was right about the fact the marriage was never going to heal enough for them to move on together.

The saying is, 'Til death do part.' Far be it from him to judge anyone who decides on divorce, but he was never supposed to be one of them.

Leaving, he finds his shoes and belt, goes into the kitchen, and finds Molly has made a full English breakfast. “Here.” She pushes him down before he can say anything. “You can take whatever you don't eat. Unless, you need a place to say, of course. I mean- It's just, if you do, the guestroom's free. Just thought I'd offer.”

“Dr Hooper, tell me honestly what happened last night.”

She sits down, and the cat jumps on her lap. “You were passed out, and the bartender- implied you'd been drowning your sorrows. I paid some men to help get you into my car, and Mr Johnson from 3C helped me bring you here.”

He sighs. “Thank you. How much did the tab cost?”

“I paid it for with your card,” she answers.

“Good. Thank you. No, I'll be fine. I plan on crashing at a mate's house.”

“The offer's always open,” she says. “Do you- If you want to talk, I'm a good listener.”

“I'm getting divorced very soon.” He forces himself to eat. “Sherlock wasn't wrong, but- I made a vow. I stood before God, my parents, and I made a vow to always be there, to always love, until death parted us. Obviously, I wasn't the one who broke the vow, first. I never cheated. But I believe in keeping my promises, and-” He shakes his head.

Molly gives him a sympathetic look. “I'm sorry. I know it probably doesn't help much, but I am. Is there anything more I can say?”

“If you can help me justify this, that'd be great. Neither of us are abusers or addicts. We have a little girl. And-”

Aware how pathetic he sounds, he stares down at his coffee.

“You don't like who you are,” Molly says. “I don't know her, but I don't imagine she does, either. Like herself, I mean. Your daughter may be your little girl, but she is also an adult, living with her girlfriend in another country. From what I've seen, she worries about you a lot, and she wants you both to be happy.”

“I know I have bad luck,” she continues. “I mean, I've dated a serial killer, a forty-year-old who still lived with his mum and survived on government assistance he didn't need, and once when I was stupid, I dated a boy who hit me- luckily, my cousin stepped in- and then, there's Sherlock. But I also know that, sometimes, relationships just don't work, no matter how good the people or how hard they try. You aren't the type to pass out drunk in a bar. I think, as much as it might hurt, in the end, you'll get back to who you want to be. You've tried everything you can, and sometimes, people just can't keep promises, no matter how much they meant to and how much they tried.”

He looks up, and she gives him an awkward look.

Letting out a breath, he reaches over and squeezes her hand. “Thank you. I still hate all this, but hearing that did help.”

Returning the squeeze, she says, “I called in sick for you. If you want to stay here, that's fine. Or I can call you a taxi.”

“I'm going to go to my mate's house, try to sleep some of this off, and then, I'll start the process.”

“I'll get all this put up for you to take, then,” Molly says. “I insist,” she adds.

Greg nods, and while he’s finishing his coffee, the cat jumps up into his lap.

His phone dings, and he digs it out.

_Of course, I was right. Accept Molly's invitation, or I'll tell her that your 'mate' is really the sofa in your office. Also, bring over some of Molly's mushrooms; they're John's favourites. SH_


End file.
